


Making Friends

by arrow (esteefee)



Category: due South
Genre: Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash, Turtles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-12
Updated: 2007-07-12
Packaged: 2017-10-17 11:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/arrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all starts with the turtle.  Or, with Fraser's new and completely hinky <i>obsession</i> with Ray's turtle, the fact of which is really beginning to creep Ray out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Friends

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by [](http://chesamus.livejournal.com/profile)[**chesamus**](http://chesamus.livejournal.com/)' beyond wonderful [I Am the Walrus](http://community.livejournal.com/ds_flashfiction/181619.html), and [The Bobs'](http://www.bobs.com/) Turtle Cycle.
> 
> Also, I dedicate this to [](http://snarkyducky.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://snarkyducky.livejournal.com/)**snarkyducky** who is WAY MORE FREAKY than I am.

It all starts with the turtle. Or, with Fraser's new and completely hinky obsession with Ray's turtle, the fact of which is really beginning to creep Ray out.

First, one day when he visits, Fraser brings Tubbs some food. Okay, that's fine, that's cool, feed the turtle. Does he really have to talk to the damn thing while he does it?

Fraser says, "There you go. But you really are a terribly messy eater, Tubbs." And, "Finished your slug already? Here's some nice celery." Fraser pats his shell and fusses with the lamp a little.

Then Fraser starts bringing toys. Which—turtles don't _need_ toys, especially not Tubbs, who spends most days imitating a rock. Speaking of rocks: Fraser brings him a bag full and then spends an hour or so putting one after another into the tank, each time pursing his lips and shaking his head before trying the next one.

"Fraser, you freak—one rock's as good as another," Ray says, raising his voice over the Cubs game.

"Not so, Ray. In fact, I think I've found the perfect...Ah. There we are. Flat, round, and the perfect height—don't you think so, Tubbs?" Fraser futzes with the lamp, _again_ , and goes to the kitchen to wash his hands. He joins Ray on the couch. "And how are the Cubs doing?"

"How do you think?"

"Oh, dear."

So, they watch the game, except every so often Fraser looks over at the tank to admire the new rock. Weird, weird Mountie.

The whole thing is starting to irritate Ray in a major way, and Dief, too, if the disgusted snorts are anything to go by. Ray thinks, _we're both **jealous** of a goddamned turtle—_

And his thoughts screech to a halt, fishtailing like crazy. Ray swallows his gum.

_I am not jealous of a turtle. I am **not** , because I don't have the teeniest interest in having Fraser tickle me out of my shell or feed me celery or play with my feet—_

__Shit. He _is_. He's jealous of a freakin' turtle.

After the game, Fraser wakes Dief up (Dief is _not_ a Cubs fan, which seems weird, considering), says good night to Ray, and then, before he leaves, bends over the tank and whispers something really softly to Tubbs.

Ray _arrrrrrrghs_ inside his head.

The next day is Saturday, which means shopping, including for wolf-food (Ray always transfers the dog food into a plastic container before Dief comes over so the wolf is none the wiser), and laundry (Ray lets Ming's do it for him, wash and fold) and Fraser stopping by in the afternoon to take him out for late lunch.

Except Fraser is late.

He still doesn't carry a cell phone, so Ray has to pace around the apartment instead of calling, meanwhile imagining all sorts of ugly scenarios (Kidnapped by clowns! Attacked by African Killer Bees!)

_Knock-knock._

__Relieved and a little pissed, Ray opens the door to a sheepish Fraser, who's holding a paper bag.

"So sorry I'm late, Ray. I had quite a time finding just the right—"

"Is that for me?" Ray reaches for the bag, but Fraser pulls it away.

"Ah, no. I'm afraid not. It's for Tubbs."

Ray growls something unpleasant and spins away. "See here, Fraser, I know you like the turtle, but don't you think you're spoiling him a little?"

"I hardly think that's possible, Ray. Anyway, I think this will do for him. I've found him the perfect present." Fraser reaches into the bag and pulls out something rubbery and green and vaguely turtle-ish.

"You bought him a _rubber turtle_?"

"A friend," Fraser says, nodding. He walks over to the tank and carefully places the rubber turtle next to the rock.

They both look down. And wait.

And wait.

"Well, that's what you'd call a hopping success, right there." But just as Ray says it, Tubbs moves. He makes his way over to the rubber turtle and slowly—and then he—

"Holy shit."

Fraser nods again, seeming to be real pleased at this disgusting turn of events. "Quite a success, yes."

"Fraser, Tubbs is humping his new toy."

Fraser gives Ray a cool look. "His friend. Sonny."

"Sonny?"

"Yes. It seemed appropriate."

Ray stares down at the slow-motion turtle-humping. He looks up at Fraser, who has a queer smile on his face. A _really_ queer smile. Ray looks back down at the new couple.

"They seem pretty happy," Ray says finally.

"And why wouldn't they be?" Fraser sounds happy too.

"Fraser, if I asked, would you buy me some celery? And play with my feet?"

Fraser locks eyes with him. "You don't even have to ask, Ray."

Later, he even tickles Ray out of his shell. Big time.

....................  
2007.07.12

(I'm really *very* sorry.)


End file.
